


The Wonders of the Ethereal Moon

by unxpctedlygreat (Yurika_Schiffer)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (aka I made up names and stuff for some parents we don't actually see in canon), And very supportive, Dancer!Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Original Characters mentioned - Freeform, Other, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius is a Good Parent, White Heron Cup (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yurika_Schiffer/pseuds/unxpctedlygreat
Summary: Rodrigue spends the Ethereal Moon at the monastery on a whim. He does expect the festivities that come along with it, he just didn't imagine them to turn out like this.or:It may be winter at Garreg Mach, yet Rodrigue witnesses the budding of something new.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102





	The Wonders of the Ethereal Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whiskerin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskerin/gifts).



> This started out as a random fun comment between me and Whiskerin, about Rodrigue learning about Felix winning the White Heron Cup and it somehow turned into this?? It didn't go where I expected but I like it regardless :')
> 
> I stole the idea of using a prop during the WHC and Manuela not able to vote in good conscience for Dorothea from [**Silk Pelts and Silver Bullets**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235350) by [LandOfMistAndSecrets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets) (Rated E, 14k of pure goodness), thought I should give credit where it's due!
> 
> I had fun writing this, so I hope you will have fun reading it!!

Rodrigue knows that his visit to Garreg Mach is, this time, wholly unnecessary. But his territory is well-tended and he has to admit to being a little nostalgic. The Ethereal Moon brings the White Heron ball to the Officers Academy and with it, Rodrigue's memories. It has been long since he attended himself. He misses the easiness of a ball such as this one, with much lower stakes in the choice of dancing partners and much less polite conversation to make with people he barely knows.

He decides to spend the moon at the monastery, hoping to be present for Dimitri's birthday, which comes along a few days before the ball. Lady Rhea, ever so warm and welcoming, smiles upon his request and shares her own excitement about the event, a mirthful look in her eyes. For someone such as her, he must seem silly, he knows. But with her approval granted, he's free to stay and partake in the festivities.

His arrival hasn't gone unnoticed, of course, and once he exits the audience chamber, he's accosted by many who wish to greet him. He takes the time to chat with all of them, encourages a few vocations when some students express their desire to become knights in Faerghus after they've graduated and eventually leaves them with promises to have a drink later.

As soon as he's out of the main building of the monastery, he goes looking for Dimitri.

Felix has mentioned in his last letter that the prince has been quite shaken by their last mission. Of course, he had to parse through his son's angry words what happened, but the main gist of it seemed to be that the mission triggered bad memories for the boy. Rodrigue can't blame him, though he wishes he could do more. Perhaps this is the occasion for that.

He finds him with the Duscur boy in the Knights Hall. Their professor is also with them, and whatever he tells the prince startles a laugh out of him. It makes Rodrigue extremely curious, but he's also relieved to see that Dimitri is well enough to laugh. Perhaps Felix's concern wasn't entirely founded. His son's emotions usually ran wild, after all, especially when it came to the prince.

He steps closer, feet heavy so as to make his presence known. He doesn't believe the professor to be easily frightened but he also doesn't particularly wish to find out what a mercenary reacting on instinct can do.

"Oh, Rodrigue! Now, this is unexpected," Dimitri remarks, though he's smiling and clearly happy to see him. "What brings you here, I wonder?"

"It is good to see you are well, Your Highness," Rodrigue greets him, bowing as is custom. He nods in acknowledgment of Dedue on the prince's right then the professor as well. "I must confess, I felt nostalgic of my days at the Academy. With the White Heron ball coming up soon, as well as your birthday, I thought this might be a great occasion to indulge a bit in this nostalgia."

"So you’ll be here for the White Heron Cup?" the professor asks, then.

For a man with such an unreadable face, his eyes are surprisingly expressive. Rodrigue can see amusement dancing in those dark pupils and he wonders if it has anything to do with what he said earlier that had His Highness laughing.

"I suppose I will, yes."

"You'll want to see this," the professor says, cryptically.

He doesn't add anything to this statement before he waves goodbye to his students and leaves. Rodrigue watches him until he's too far out, then turns back to face Dimitri.

The prince looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh. He also seems unable to meet Rodrigue's eyes. Next to him, Dedue's lips have also curled up.

"I suppose you know what this is about, Your Highness?"

Dimitri bites his lip, attempting to quiet his laughter before finally meeting his eyes again.

"Ah, yes. I should not be laughing, I know. However, I do find the situation quite amusing… The professor came to tell me who he has chosen to be the representative of the Blue Lions house for the White Heron Cup. His choice is… rather unexpected."

"Is that so? Who has he chosen, then? You have greatly piqued my interest."

Dimitri clears his throat, a chuckle muffled as he tries to keep his composure.

"You see, the professor has chosen Felix to represent us."

Ah. That is, in fact, not what Rodrigue had expected to hear. Though it makes sense that the prince would find the situation hilarious. Felix is neither good with an audience, nor very well-versed in the art of dancing. Oh, he can certainly hold his own when attending a formal event in the Kingdom; as much as most noble children hate the lessons, dance is something required of them from an early age when there is a social event. Felix did not get a free pass out of them, far from it.

Rodrigue cannot say he fully understands the professor's decision, but if the man trusts Felix to win, then Rodrigue isn't about to object. He doubts it would change a thing, anyway. If he tried to dissuade the professor, Felix would likely participate out of spite, regardless of his own feelings on the matter.

Dimitri seems to mistake his silence for disapproval and he starts to ramble.

"For as surprising as it is, I do believe Felix has a chance! He… may lack charm when it comes to his personality, but his appearance is far from lacking!" He seems to realize his words and blushes brightly, and distantly Rodrigue notes to have a conversation with him later, maybe. "At least, this is what I've heard some people say. Oh, the dancer certification also requires proficiency with the sword and includes some magical element to it, if I remember correctly. I would say it ties in neatly with Felix's studies, as per the professor's wishes. Has Felix told you he started studying reason magic?"

The prince looks at him with wide eyes, his cheeks still a light pink. A part of Rodrigue wants to tease him, as improper as it may be given his status, but the reasonable part of him wins and he decides to save Dimitri from his embarrassment.

"He has, yes. It was a pleasant surprise," he admits with a smile. "In any case, I am extremely intrigued. Your professor seems confident that Felix can win, doesn't he?"

"Hah, yes! The professor always works hard to achieve his goals, I am convinced he can do it. Though, I must admit, it will be tough. One of Felix's rivals is a former diva of the Mittelfrank Opera from Enbarr."

"Tough competition, I see! I am most curious to see the results, now… I meant to find Felix to spend some time with him while I'm here, but perhaps it would be better if I made myself scarce," he says, chuckling. "I don't believe he would want me there."

"Nonsense, Rodrigue. He might be embarrassed, but I am certain he would appreciate your support," Dimitri insists.

Felix does not want his support, though, as he confirms later that day when he finds him on the training grounds.

His son is busy going through his sword routines, as he often is, and Rodrigue is pleased to note that his movements are precise and steady, a distinct proof of his skills and dedication to the art.

"What do you want?" Felix says, annoyance clear in his voice, when he eventually turns to face Rodrigue.

A far cry from the prince's warm welcome, but nothing he isn't used to by now. He wishes they could talk, really talk, but Felix closes in on himself so easily nowadays that Rodrigue knows it best to give him space. Perhaps one day, Felix will try to cross the bridge he has built between them. When that happens, Rodrigue will be there for him.

In the meantime, he will do his best to keep their relationship afloat. Even if Felix doesn’t make it easy.

“Hard at work as usual, I see.”

“Yes. What of it? Why are you here, anyway?”

“I simply thought I could pay you and His Highness a visit. I will be staying until the end of the moon.”

“What a waste of time. Don’t you have lands to watch over?”

“Fraldarius isn’t doing so bad that it requires constant supervision, Felix, you know that.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not about to force you to spend time with me, so I’ll leave you to it.”

When Felix doesn’t deign answering, he turns away and moves to exit the training grounds. Just before he passes the doors, he stops and glances over his shoulder.

“Oh, and good luck with the White Heron Cup! I’m sure you’ll be wonderful.”

It may be a little childish, the glee he feels when Felix makes a choked noise at that, and he flees quickly before his son can charge at him with the training sword.

  
  


He doesn’t see his son often after that, mostly because he doesn’t go out of his way to find him and because Felix becomes rather busy as the competition draws nearer.

He learns from Dimitri, Ingrid and Sylvain that the professor has Felix practice often and in private, so none of them truly knows what will come out of this. It quickly turns out that many, _many_ people are as curious as they are.

The general consensus seems to be confusion as to why Felix was chosen to be the Blue Lions’ representative. Rodrigue doesn't particularly like to speak ill of his son, but he has to admit that those skeptical of the decision have a point. He has seen many of the students in the Blue Lions house and there are a good number of them who look better suited to the task. Even among his son's and the prince's immediate circle, there would be more obvious choices. Gustave's daughter is quite skilled in reason magic and, though he hasn't seen her with a sword in hand, it couldn't possibly be too hard to train her. 

There are also, as Rodrigue quickly finds out, some people commenting that Felix isn't such a bad choice. Not because of his swordsmanship or his budding talent in reason magic, though. Many people remark on his attractiveness, and Rodrigue is torn between pride that his son is making heads turn and the sudden realization that his son is seventeen and very nearly of marrying age. It makes him feel a little old.

He pushes down the feeling and tries his best to ignore the comments relating to this. He finds comfort in Dimitri's company, who, unsurprisingly after last time's slip, also seeks to avoid the mentions of Felix's appearance.

As the White Heron Cup draws near, the excitement within the students is palpable. There are lots of talks about the three candidates. He catches the names of Dorothea, who seems to be the former songstress Dimitri mentioned, and Marianne, daughter to a minor noble from the Alliance. He meets both of them before the competition and finds himself gauging the odds in Felix's favor.

Marianne is a sweet girl, soft-spoken and shy, perhaps a little gloomy, but her friends give her confidence to stand a little straighter and Rodrigue can see the potential in her small shoulders. As a noble, she likely had dance lessons at some point in her childhood. With some serious practice, she could probably be an excellent dancer, he's sure.

Dorothea, on the other hand, is undoubtedly a professional performer. Even if he hadn't been told of her time in the Mittelfrank Opera Company, it is clear in the way she holds herself and speaks. She exudes confidence in her own skills and her ability to win. Dorothea's beauty is also objectively staggering. With her bright green eyes and charming smile, she has nothing to envy the ladies of the court.

If Rodrigue thought that Felix had a chance against Marianne, he isn't so sure about Dorothea. And after finding out her professor is a former songstress of Mittelfrank as well, the odds in Felix's favor are… not very high.

He is strangely stumped about it.

He doesn't know Felix's feelings about the competition, at least not from his son himself. Sylvain seems to confirm begrudging acceptance of his fate at the hands of the professor, while a conversation with the young Flayn leans toward active enjoyment of the activity. Then again, the girl is spectacularly positive so perhaps her judgement isn't to be taken without a grain of salt.

The professor keeps his own opinion on the matter quiet, his face never betraying anything. Rodrigue isn't sure whether it is a good thing or not.

The day before the competition, Rodrigue finds himself pulled into the general agitation. It is both from genuine interest in the event and, as for the reason he was here to begin with, nostalgia. The faces around him may be strangers for the most part, and much younger than he is, but the excitement around the White Heron Cup is the same as all those years ago.

He remembers very well the contest from back then. The Blue Lions candidate had been a beautiful girl with fiery red hair, a knack for axes, and a tendency to get into brawls with any boy who dared underestimate her. She had remained undefeated all year in tournaments. She hadn’t won the Cup, unfortunately, but her performance had managed to sway a certain margrave’s heart who had sworn beforehand that he had absolutely no interest in her. Funny then, that they have been married for over twenty years now.

He realizes the situation this year is a little like the one back then, in fact.

For all Lady Gautier had been beautiful, she had never quite been one for grace and her dancing skills had been… average, at best. A true girl from Gautier lands, bred for war over politics, especially with her lack of crest. Her rivals had been a boy from Adrestria who prided himself on his dancing and another from the Alliance who bid everything on his good looks. The Black Eagles student had won, predictably.

It looks as though history will repeat itself here. Unless Felix’s professor works miracles, the balance tips on the Black Eagles’ side most certainly.

As he dines with the prince, Ingrid, Sylvain and their classmates the evening before the competition, he shares as much.

“Definitely,” Ingrid agrees without hesitation. “I feel slightly bad for not believing in Felix, but with Dorothea up against him, I don’t believe he has any chance.”

“Marianne isn’t doing so badly either, from what I’ve seen!” Ashe, Rodrigue remembers, argues fervently.

“True,” Annette, Gustave’s girl, says, “but she’s so shy! Do you really think she’ll be able to dance in front of everyone? There will be so many people watching, I can’t imagine what it’d feel like!”

“Yeah, Marianne probably won’t do well with the crowd, Annette’s right.” Sylvain nods, smiling easily. “Even if she tried to pretend she was alone in the room, having everyone’s eyes on her will definitely make her uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Dorothea’s used to that. She doesn’t even have to try, honestly.”

“I’ve heard Professor Manuela will be on the jury,” Mercedes says, “I don’t think she would give her vote to Dorothea, it would be too easy to accuse her of favoritism. What do you think, Dimitri?”

Dimitri, who is sitting opposite of him, has been staring at his food for a good ten minutes at least and is startled out of his thoughts at the call of his name. He glances at all of them before clearing his throat and answering.

“I, ah, believe you have a point, Mercedes. This could be to our advantage, but also to the Golden Deer’s.”

“Do you not think Felix could make this work in our favor?” Dedue asks him, and the prince’s face quickly turns pink as he tries to stammer out an answer.

He is, however, saved from the trouble, by Felix’s arrival. His son sits unceremoniously in the last free seat at their table with his tray of food and glares at everyone present. His hair is wet and from here, Rodrigue catches the distinctive smell of the pine needle oil he uses to wash himself even back in Fraldarius. He is likely coming back from practice.

“I think,” he starts, stabbing the meat on his plate with a little too much force than is required, “that the whole lot of you should stop making such a big deal out of this absurd competition. You’re just wasting your breaths.”

“What, you’re saying we’re right that you don’t stand a chance against Dorothea?” Sylvain drawls. The smirk on his face and the obnoxious tone he’s taken is completely intended to rile Felix up.

Felix drops his fork and slams a hand on the table, standing up to fix Sylvain with a dark look that lesser men might have cowered from. Or less foolish men, perhaps.

“I _will_ win this.”

There is silence for a moment, before Felix sits back down and resumes eating, keen on ignoring the others. Once they follow his example and go back to their own dinner, there is a collective smile on each of their faces. Even Ingrid seems impressed by Felix’s assurance and she looks as if she’s starting to consider the possibility of him winning. Sylvain’s grin is almost wolfish and he resembles greatly a fox having caught its prey. Which would be slightly worrying if Rodrigue wasn’t aware of his and Felix’s deep-rooted friendship.

A glance at Dimitri merely confirms what Rodrigue has suspected since their first conversation this moon, if he’s being honest. The prince looks at his son with an awed gaze and the grip he has on his cutlery is strong enough to bend them. It’s only a discreet intervention from Dedue that saves the silverware from a worse fate. Dimitri blushes some more before focusing again on his food, this time with the intention to eat it.

  
  


The next day, Rodrigue is invited to train with the Blue Lions. With the competition happening that evening, the professors of each house and their candidates have been allowed to take the day off for their final preparations.

Rodrigue is a little disappointed that he won’t get to supervise Felix’s training, as he used to before the Tragedy happened and this rift between them formed, but having a class full of attentive students all eager to learn from him far makes up for it. Those are possibly the future knights who will serve Dimitri once he is crowned, after all. Getting to gauge their potential is a certain asset. If any of them show promising aptitude, he knows he could offer them tutelage in Fraldarius after they’ve graduated, too.

It is also quite a lot of fun to show off his skills in front of an awed public.

He fights Dimitri, at some point, to see for himself how well the prince progresses. The monstrous Blaiddyd strength is as exhilarating to parry and use to his advantage as it was when he sparred with the late King all those years ago. He can see that Dimitri is thinking a little more about his movements than the last time they’ve had a friendly spar, and while he still relies heavily on his natural strength, he clearly keeps his mind open to other techniques to try and disarm Rodrigue.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter and Rodrigue gets him to yield, his lance somewhere on the ground, unreachable. Years of growing alongside his father and fighting by his side have given Rodrigue more than enough clues on how to defeat someone with as much strength as a Blaiddyd.

"You've improved, Your Highness," he tells him sincerely, holding out a hand to help Dimitri back from where he's landed on his backside.

"Hah, I'm afraid that is still far from enough to defeat you. This was highly instructive, however. Thank you, Rodrigue."

Dimitri smiles at him, a certain peace in his eyes that makes itself remarkable by its former absence. It is as though this friendly spar has settled something inside of him for the time being. Rodrigue notes that he holds himself a little straighter as well, and that the line of his shoulders is more relaxed than it was before.

 _He's losing his grip_ , Felix had written in his last letter. Maybe there is more truth to his son's words than he has assumed when he first saw Dimitri this moon. He would have to keep a closer eye on Dimitri's mood.

After some more spars and advice, Rodrigue calls for a break. The students gather back into groups of friends and start chatting enthusiastically. He comes closer to the prince's group.

"Felix must be so mad," Sylvain says, grinning. "Can't imagine he appreciates being told off training."

“I’m sure he likes it better than having everyone encourage him. There’s quite a lot of people bet— I mean, hoping he wins!” Ashe throws a panicked glance in his direction, so Rodrigue keeps his face neutral.

Decades later and wagers are still, if not plain prohibited, at least heavily frowned upon, huh. Rodrigue can’t blame him or any of the other students to go against the rules for this. After all, what is a competition without some kind of stake? He wonders if Felix’s friends have bet in his favor or if they’ve set their bets on one of the girls. He remembers losing all of his gold for the moon back then, having bet on his classmate and friend for the sake of house pride.

“I’ve no doubt Felix will give it his all. He might even win, who knows?”

“Ingrid is right,” Dimitri agrees with a small smile. “Felix is nothing if not a hard-worker. Even if he doesn’t… wish to obtain the dancer certification, I believe he will want to win.”

“You can just say he’s a sore loser, you know?” Sylvain laughs, and that earns him numerous chuckles.

It’s oddly reassuring, to see that Felix has many friends who know him well and care for him. In spite of the front he puts up, his son isn’t alone. There are people who chose to see beyond his harsh words and to insert themselves into his life whether he liked it or not. Support is something Rodrigue hasn’t been able to provide his son in many years, so to know that there are people watching out for him where Rodrigue cannot, it’s comforting.

  
  


The eve comes fast after that. The White Heron Cup is to be held after dinner, so the students are louder than usual, bets carelessly thrown into the air even when Seteth, the Archbishop’s advisor, can hear them. Rodrigue sees him shake his head in obvious disappointment when one student disses two of the candidates in favor of the third one, but catches the small smile that curls his lips up when several students call them out on it.

Felix isn’t with them, still away with the professor. Dorothea and Marianne aren’t present in the dining hall either, as far as he’s aware. It is likely that the professors want to avoid putting even more pressure on them and for them not to lose focus so close to the competition. He wishes he could have talked to Felix at some point, but it probably wouldn’t be wise.

Felix didn't seem particularly embarrassed about being chosen as dancer in front of him when he had eaten with them last time, so at least this wouldn't be a problem. Rodrigue hasn't yet considered what Felix winning might mean in the future, so for now he's just happy to cheer on his son. But their relationship is still strained, as the few encounters with him have shown Rodrigue. Direct encouragement from him might not be welcome.

"Wonder what they'll be wearing," Sylvain muses, loud enough to be heard over the commotion in the dining hall.

"If it is the same as when I was a student here, then I believe the outfit they will be given is the standard wear for dancer units," Rodrigue offers. There is no saying they haven't changed the clothes in all these years, but it would seem silly to make such a grand event only to have the students dance in their uniforms.

"Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever seen the male outfit," Dimitri muses. "I wonder how they differ…"

"Well, you'll see it soon enough on Felix! The professor probably had to wrestle him into it, though." Sylvain snorts, shaking his head slightly. "I put my money on him because I'd feel bad if I didn't, but it's definitely going to be a tough fight, isn't it?"

"Dorothea certainly won't go easy on her rivals. I don't know how well Marianne will fare but she has a certain advantage on Felix when it comes to appearances, I'd say," Ingrid comments. Rodrigue sees Dimitri make a weird face for a short moment before he schools his expression back into his usual friendly smile. He is definitely going to need to have a talk with him later. Perhaps also one with Felix, to be sure.

It isn't… common, for a King to desire someone of the same sex. But it is not unheard of, Rodrigue knows. There are arrangements that can be made to ensure that the Crown will have an heir despite that. If Dimitri wished to wed a man, it would be within the realm of possibility. It might make some of the older nobles grind their teeth, but as long as there was a Crest-bearing heir, they could not complain openly.

And if Felix is the one Dimitri one day chooses to court, well. Ideally, Felix would also have an heir of his own, but if he did not, one of his young cousins bears a minor crest. Fraldarius was blessed with several crest-bearers this generation, so the issue of an heir isn't pressing.

But there is the matter of Felix's feelings. Rodrigue can say with some sort of confidence that his son has harbored such feelings towards the prince in the past, but it had been before the Tragedy and before he grew cold to Dimitri's friendship. And young as he had been, it is hard to say if in other circumstances, his feelings would have remained the same as they grew up.

Felix says he wants nothing to do with the prince, but Rodrigue has seen him demand spars from Dimitri often enough in the past weeks to assume it’s yet another front that his son is putting up. He’s heard the way he talks to His Highness, has even chided him for it, but Dimitri himself doesn’t seem to mind it and always seems amused by Felix’s antics. Rodrigue has never been quite an expert when it comes to relationships, but he’s certain theirs is a relationship too complex to even start untangling.

It would be a lot easier if Felix hadn’t stopped being honest with his feelings after Glenn’s death. Rodrigue remembers a time when he had wished for his son to harden his heart, back when Felix would cry for the littlest thing. He realizes it had been some kind of blessing, being able to know when his son was upset and to be able to easily figure out how to help him. Now Felix rarely lets anyone in on how he’s feeling.

“Rodrigue? Is something wrong?” Dimitri asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looks up and realizes that he has been staring off for a moment, garnering a few concerned looks from the students around him. He smiles apologetically.

“My apologies, it seems I got lost in thoughts.”

“Care to share those thoughts?” Sylvain asks, his tone teasing.

Rodrigue likes the boy; he’s a rather kind soul and easy-going, which is a spectacular feat considering who his father is. The Margrave himself has been raised strictly, though his time at the Academy had seen him a little more loose in his manners. It makes sense he would raise his sons… well, his son, the same way.

Hm. Perhaps a little insight on his father’s youth would do Sylvain some good. It’s hard to resist the temptation to share unflattering memories.

“Well, you see, I was thinking back on my time as a student here,” he lies. His thoughts on Felix and Dimitri’s relationship or lack thereof isn’t something he’s willing to share, especially not in public. And he’s already made up his mind.

“Oh! Please tell us what it was like back then!” Annette asks excitedly.

“I must admit, not much has changed since my time here. Your teachers might be different, but the classes are about the same.”

“You were attending with my father, weren’t you?”

“That I did, Your Highness! I cherish those memories greatly. We also had a certain Jose Henri Gautier with us…” he says, giving Sylvain a look from the corner of his eyes.

Sylvain, who has just picked up a cup to drink, stops midway to stare at him with wide eyes. Was he not aware of this? How little has Jose shared about his childhood? Rodrigue remembers telling stories of Garreg Mach to Glenn and Felix when they were just little boys with wide, shining eyes.

“I didn’t know my dad attended the same year as you,” Sylvain confirms, putting down his cup. “Now I’m curious.”

“Your father and your mother, actually.” It earns him an incredulous look that makes him wonder just how much the Gautiers share between themselves. “Marlene was the candidate chosen for the White Heron Cup, actually.”

“Really?! Did she win?”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t. But she impressed your father enough that he finally admitted to himself that her charms did not leave him indifferent.”

Sylvain snorts.

“I’ll trust you on that, but I can’t really see it.”

“Did you also meet Felix’s mother at the Academy?” Ashe asks him, eyes curious and gleeful. Rodrigue thinks he remembers Felix mentioning that Ashe likes reading chivalry tales, and those do often include romance, don’t they?

“We actually met before. My late wife and I were betrothed at birth, so we were often encouraged to spend time together. She did attend the same year as me, that said. She was good friends with Marlene, I remember.” He smiles, something warm and a little sad, perhaps. They had been engaged since birth, but they had come to love each other; his duties do not always afford him the time to look back on those old times, but he does miss her dearly. “Hah, they were often the ones to get us out of trouble, in fact. Though they also caused as much of it as we did. People never believed they could be the instigators.”

“My mother never attended the Officers’ Academy, did she? I don’t remember my father mentioning it.”

“Her health was rather fragile, yes. Her parents chose not to send her so they could keep an eye on her. I do believe His Majesty would have enjoyed her company by our sides.”

It is rather unfortunate that neither of Lambert’s wives had been able to truly enjoy a family life with all that it entails. Alas, there is nothing to be done about it, now.

Dimitri opens his mouth, likely about to ask more, but this is the moment a member of the monastery staff chooses to announce loudly that the White Heron Cup will start soon.

This obviously causes the chatter of the dining hall to rise again, especially as students are now rushing out of the room to head toward the reception hall, where the competition is held. Rodrigue accompanies the Blue Lions there, though he chooses to stand on the side once they are here, rather than among the students.

A large, wooden stage has been built to the far end of the room, so that the three students chosen stand higher than the public, giving everyone a chance to watch the performance. All of the students settle in the room before the stage, loud whispers sharing a last opinion or wager before silence is demanded of them.

On stage, Alois starts explaining how the competition will proceed and how the candidates will be judged. Rodrigue is pleasantly surprised to see that nothing has changed since his time here, the rules ever the same. Each of them will perform a short three-minutes routine, alone on stage with music of their and their professor’s choice, courtesy of musicians hired for the ball later this moon. First, the Black Eagles representative, then the Blue Lions’ and to round it off, the Golden Deer’s.

As Alois says this, the Black Eagle’s professor, Manuela, who turns out to be a part of the jury as Mercedes had said, steps forward and gestures for the knight to lean down. There is a moment of curious silence as she tells him something, before Alois straightens up.

“Ah, I am told that this year, the order of passage will be a little different! The Black Eagles House will start this off as planned, but the Golden Deer and the Blue Lions are switched up!”

The public starts whispering between themselves again and Rodrigue hears many suspicions that Felix might have just gone and given up, which he deliberately turns a deaf ear to. He doesn’t believe Felix would give up a challenge no matter how embarrassed he may be. His son has always had a competitive streak and he despises losing, always has. If there has been a need to change when he will perform, it likely isn’t because the professor has to chase him around the monastery before it’s time.

Rodrigue chances a glance at Felix’s friend group. None of them appear worried either, they all seem eager to watch the performances regardless of order. Dimitri’s shoulders are slumped every so slightly and Rodrigue resists the urge to chuckle. If Felix were to return the prince’s feelings, Rodrigue can at least rest assured that Dimitri’s feelings are genuine.

Alois walks down the stage to allow the competition to begin, taking his place next to Manuela and Shamir as jury.

Dorothea steps onto the stage and the crowd goes silent. As expected, she is wearing the standard dancer outfit. White and burgundy silks drape over her body and still as she settles into her starting position.

The musicians begin their song, a melody that is familiar to Rodrigue though he can’t pinpoint when he has heard it before. Dorothea starts moving, ribbons and hair flowing around her with each and every of her movements. Her steps are sure and confident, just as she had seemed when he had met her the week before. Her body follows the rhythm to perfection, as though the song is merely another part of her. Technically speaking, her performance is flawless. Her smile is radiant, she knows what she’s doing and she’s clearly enjoying herself as she goes. She twirls, bends and twirls again, the skirt of her dress making each movement stand out.

When she eventually finishes, just on the three-minutes mark, the crowd explodes in applause. Rodrigue applauses her too, for he doesn’t remember the last time a dance performance has left him so breathless. Even from where he stands, he can see her grin something fierce and satisfied.

He truly hopes for Felix that Mercedes’ suspicion that Manuela won’t vote for Dorothea is true, because there is no denying that Dorothea is a professional and as such, the best dancer out of the three. It is perhaps a little rude to concede the point so early, before having even seen his son’s or Marianne’s performances, but as much as he believes in Felix’s capacities, he also knows when to admit defeat. It will be extremely hard to do as good or even better than her.

Dorothea exits the stage after saluting the crowd. There is only a short pause before Marianne is called on stage, the students hushing each other until they have gone silent again. Rodrigue hears a boy shout “Show them what you’ve got, Marianne!” which seems to both frighten and relax her. A young, fearful thing, she is. Rodrigue is impressed she has managed to step on stage in the first place. That has to take a lot of courage from her.

The song that accompanies her is a softer thing than Dorothea’s choice. Rodrigue thinks it fits her well, and though her movements are a little shaky and unsure, she follows the melody and goes through her routine without much trouble. It is less about flashy moves, like her rival is capable of, and more about the story the song means to tell. Whereas Dorothea impresses with her technique, Marianne gets about with the unexpected expressiveness of her dance. In spite of her inexperience, she manages to give them quite a sweet show.

The crowd’s applause is a little less wild this time around, but just as important. Rodrigue spots a few students discretely wiping the corners of their eyes and is surprised to see Sylvain among them.

The room is quiet before the last competitor enters the stage. It feels a little as though everyone is holding their breaths, waiting to see what will come of Felix’s performance. All three of the candidates have been waited for excitedly, although for entirely different reasons. Rodrigue is aware that a great part of the students are expecting his son to ridicule himself, as dancing is definitely not something one would associate with the prickly personality of his boy. In the middle of the crowd, Felix’s friends are nearly vibrating in excitement.

Felix steps up onto the stage.

He’s glaring at the crowd, a sword in hand. It’s a little hard to tell if the blade is dull or sharp from where Rodrigue is, but he hopes it’s dull. Props are allowed in the performances, though neither Dorothea nor Marianne chose to use one. It makes Felix stand out even more.

Felix looks to the side and Rodrigue notices that his professor is standing here. His lips don’t move but the look he sends Felix is enough for his son to roll his eyes, before he closes them and breathes deeply enough that it’s easy to see the lift of his shoulders and the way they relax once he exhales.

He spreads out his legs a little, making his stance wider, and lifts the sword above his head. When he opens his eyes again, they are fixed to the point of the sword. Like this, with the whites and blues of the silks covering him, the silver accessories accenting his body, and his long hair cascading down his back and shoulders, he reminds Rodrigue a little of a figure he has once seen in a book as a child. He’s not sure Felix would take the comparison well, but Rodrigue has to admit his son does make quite the picture right now. He’s certain a look at Dimitri would confirm this, as well.

The musicians start the song in gusto. The rhythm is perhaps a little faster and stronger than Dorothea’s song and the melody entirely unfamiliar. Felix keeps his eyes on the sword even as he slashes through the air with it, with a forceful movement that would, in battle, be very little effective, but is strong enough now to guide him into a quick spin.

It’s easy enough to see that the professor has chosen to use Felix’s impressive mastery of the sword to make it his weapon even in dance. Anyone familiar with swordsmanship can recognize the stances Felix goes through, used as a base for grand, flowing movements. His footwork is flawless, as it always is when he’s training, Rodrigue knows. He’s light on his feet and quick in moving his entire body, especially as the weight of the sword pulls him this or that way as he wields it on an imaginary battlefield.

Unlike the female uniform, where the skirt can only go up a certain level so as to preserve the dancer’s dignity, the male outfit has a lot more leeway. It has a couple more layers and those can fly out with every spin that Felix makes. This, with his unbound hair and the ribbon attached to his right arm, makes every gesture, every step this much more eye-catching.

When he finally bends into his finishing pose, his eyes leave the sword and go up into the crowd. He stands back straight quickly after this and leaves without waiting for the applause to end. A glance in Dimitri’s look tells Rodrigue that perhaps his eyes have caught Dimitri’s. The prince is frozen mid-clap, eyes wide and mouth parted as though all breath has left him. His face is bright pink.

He will truly need to have these talks with him and Felix.

  
  


It’s a little later that the Blue Lions and Rodrigue meet with Felix and their professor, away from the chaos of the crowd. The results have been announced just a little before and the students have launched into heated arguments, most of which seem to involve lost bets. Rodrigue can’t find it in himself to feel bad for them.

They find Felix in a rather tight embrace from Dorothea that he seems not to know whether to push away or accept in hopes that it ends sooner.

“Felix, that was truly incredible! Sure, there are a few things here and there that I might have done differently, but overall, this was amazing! If you ever consider turning to opera for your future career, I can absolutely vouch for you. I’ve known professional dancers with less grace than you.”

“... thanks, I guess.”

She lets him go and pats him on the arm, already turning to leave.

“I’m sure you’re impatient to celebrate with your friends, so I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and congratulations on the win again!”

And what a win that had been.

Manuela had launched into a quite poetic speech about his dance, apparently won over by his performance. When she had given him her vote, Rodrigue isn’t sure how much of it might have been her reluctance to favor Dorothea. Shamir had also given her vote to him, impressed by his skills with the sword perhaps more than by the actual dancing. Alois’s choice had been Marianne, whom he greatly complimented as well, but ultimately, two votes against one meant that Felix won without a doubt.

The wagers seemed to have been in Dorothea’s and Marianne’s favors more than Felix’s, explaining the ruckus in the reception hall.

When Felix spots them, he tries to flee. The professor expected it, it seems, because he naturally grabs Felix’s arm to keep him here. Even fuming, Felix remains where he stands.

His friends lose no time to congratulate him and all of them end up talking over each other as they compliment him or tease him. Sylvain steps until he’s by his side and slides an arm around Felix’s shoulders, which Felix immediately tries to shove off. Sylvain is undeterred.

Only Dimitri and Dedue stand back, a little away from the lively group. Dimitri can’t seem to look in Felix’s direction, which Rodrigue assumes is a result of the earlier moment. Better give the prince a little breathing room, he supposes.

He himself doesn’t come forward. He’s content to watch his son surrounded by his friends, especially as Felix lets himself relax enough to share some smiles with them. It’s a particularly sweet thing, to be able to see his son so happy. Rodrigue has never made a habit of being sentimental, but he must admit he misses the early days, when Felix was younger and smiled brighter than the northern sun. Glenn’s death had only been made all the more obvious once Felix had stopped radiating warmth and light constantly.

He shakes himself off those depressing thoughts. This night isn’t one for sorrow. It’s a night of celebration, for a well-earned victory. It would do him no good to tamper Felix’s good mood by looking glum in the corner.

He lets the young ones enjoy themselves for a while, watching over them fondly. Dimitri is eventually dragged into the group cheers and, surprisingly, Felix doesn’t seem to mind his presence much. He doesn’t look the prince’s way, not that Dimitri has done so either, but he doesn’t shy away from him either. If Rodrigue looks closely, he’s certain he can see a light blush darkening his cheeks, and the bashful look on his face tells Rodrigue a little more about his son’s feelings for his prince. Perhaps a dancer certification isn’t all that Felix will take from the White Heron Cup.

It is much later that Rodrigue approaches Felix. His son has gone to his private quarters after having indulged his friends for much longer than probably any of them had anticipated. They hadn’t seemed to mind.

He knocks on the door and waits. Felix opens the door after a moment, a pinched look on his face before he even sees who is asking for him. He looks away when he does.

“What do you want?” he asks. His tone is weary, and much less annoyed than usual. He’s obviously tired but still in a good mood from earlier.

“I wanted to talk a little, if you feel up for it,” Rodrigue says. If Felix refuses, it is more than fine; the hour is late now, so Rodrigue would understand.

Felix lets him in, in manner of reply.

He closes behind Rodrigue and goes to sit on his bed, while Rodrigue sits on the chair at the desk. He notes that the surface is covered in drafted letters, most of which he remembers reading the past few months.

“So?”

“Your performance was impressive. I know many have told you so, but I thought I should tell you as well. I was hoping to see your progress during training today, but I must say I’ve seen more than enough tonight to tell that you’ve improved greatly.”

“Hmpf.”

Felix is looking away from him, but that’s alright. Rodrigue may not be as attuned to his son’s thoughts as he used to, but he can tell Felix is merely embarrassed. He’s bad at taking compliments, especially when they’re genuine.

“Is that all?” Felix asks, grumbling. “Did you only come here to congratulate me for winning this nonsensical competition?

“Of course not. It may have been the main reason, but there is more I’d like to talk about.”

“Then what is it? Be quick, if you will. I would like to sleep sometime soon.”

“Of course. I won’t keep you too long. I… was simply wondering about the nature of your relationship with His Highness.”

This has Felix look at him, eyes wide in alarm and spluttering.

“I— What?!”

“I am aware it is not my place to meddle in your personal affairs, however—”

“Stop! Stop, stop right here!”

“—if you wished to pursue a relationship with His Highness—”

“?! I don’t— I’m not— This is absurd—”

“—I would not stop you.”

“—completely ridicul— What?”

Felix has stood up somewhere in the middle of his splutter and he freezes now, staring at Rodrigue with an expression so shocked that he can’t help but feel a little worried he just broke his son. Still, he repeats what he has said.

“I would not interfere, if the two of you were to become involved.” He explains, then, “It would be unusual, but not unheard of, for the King, or future King in this situation, to take a lover of the same sex. If that would be something both of you wished for, I see no reason to oppose it.”

Felix lets himself fall back onto his bed, still staring at him like he has grown pegasus wings on his back. Rodrigue isn’t sure what to add or do now, and rather than make this all the more awkward, he decides it may be wiser to give Felix some time to think it over. He stands up and walks to the door, his hand on the handle.

“I…” Felix begins.

Rodrigue turns to look at him. Felix looks away as soon as he does, but it does little to hide the red of his face.

“Whatever,” he eventually says. His voice is shaking despite the disinterested tone he tries to emulate, and the look on his face is… hopeful, maybe. Perhaps even a little grateful. Rodrigue can’t say for sure.

He says nothing as he leaves Felix alone, closing the door behind him.

Making his way back to the quarter allocated to him during his stay in Garreg Mach, he thinks to himself that this has gone a lot better than he had imagined.

This professor of his may just be working miracles, after all.

  
  


The few days after the White Heron Cup are animated, to say the least. The Blue Lions are busy with their classes, of course, but it doesn’t stop students from surrounding Felix every so often to congratulate or tease him about his victory. Rodrigue only sees part of it, but he’s aware it happens frequently enough that Felix has already threatened ten different students with the dull point of the ceremonial sword he keeps at his waist. If it were anyone else, the threat would seem empty. Felix isn’t anyone else; he’s a strong and skilled swordsman and he possesses the power of a Major Crest. If he goes through with his threat, he’s more than capable of sending someone to the infirmary even with an ornamental weapon.

When Rodrigue finally catches Felix, Dimitri and their friends again outside of meals, it’s on the twentieth. He finds the Blue Lions gathered near their classroom, after they’re all done with their tasks for the day.

Such a tight-knit group that they are, they’re bound to warm an old man’s heart. He can easily see them all as Dimitri’s future companions when he will be crowned; a King always supported by those who care for him. Life might make their paths different in the future, but he trusts that they will be here for Dimitri if the need arises.

He eyes Felix, who has been forced into a casual embrace by Sylvain as always, though he doesn’t seem to mind it much for now. Rodrigue thinks of the night of the competition, of the look on Felix’s face when he had left. He cannot say for sure in what manner his son will be there for the prince, but he has little doubt that he _will_ be there regardless.

He steps closer to the group and they quickly all notice his arrival, greeting him warmly. Even Felix greets him, without any of the residual anger he usually holds.

“Is something the matter, Rodrigue?” Dimitri asks, though his eyes keep sliding to the lance Rodrigue is holding, a light sparkle within them.

“I merely came to wish you a happy birthday, Your Highness,” he replies, holding out the lance. “This is my gift for you. I hope it will help protect you through the beginning of this new year of your life.”

“Wait! It’s your birthday?!” Annette squeaks loudly. She turns to frown at Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid and Dedue. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have prepared something for His Highness!”

“Ah, there is no need for this Annette,” Dimitri tries to placate her.

Annette isn’t so easily soothed.

“But birthdays are important! And they’re such a nice occasion to spend time with your friends, too! When it was ours,” she waves in her friends’ direction, “you made sure we all had a nice gift and a good time!”

“As your house leader, it only seemed—”

“Oh, will you stop that? You’re going to be king, you’d better get used to the attention now,” Felix interrupts him, rolling his eyes. He isn’t wrong, either, though it seems to displease Dimitri.

“You’re right,” Dimitri concedes, ”but still, I…”

“I believe it is early enough still to request use of the kitchens,” Dedue speaks up then. It sparks all three of Annette, Mercedes and Ashe into more excitement.

“We could make some whitefish sauté! I think I saw the professor catch one of those earlier, if we ask him, I’m sure he’ll let us have it!” Ashe says.

“Oooh yes! We should go ask him!”

“Maybe for dessert, we could have sweet buns? I’d be happy to bake some,” Mercedes offers.

And before Dimitri can even try to object, the three of them leave, chatting enthusiastically about recipes. Dedue bows to the prince and takes his leave as well, mentioning his intention to help and prevent fire accidents, which seems reasonable enough a concern that Dimitri immediately agrees. Rodrigue is a little curious, but he supposes he’ll hear about it soon enough.

The prince sighs.

“I didn’t want them to feel like they have to do this,” he says.

“They don’t, though. They all love cooking, Your Highness,” Ingrid tells him, shaking her head. “And they love you, too; perhaps it’s time you accept that.”

Her smile is teasing and it’s enough to get Dimitri smiling in return.

“I suppose you’re right, yes.”

“And, well, look on the bright side! We’re all getting delicious food tonight! And dessert! I swear it feels a bit like it’s my birthday instead,” Sylvain says, grinning.

“I’d better not catch you stealing food off the others’ plates, Sylvain,” Ingrid warns him.

If Rodrigue’s memory serves him well, he thinks it’s rather her the others should be worried about. How many times has he had to stop a fight between her and Felix because she’d picked meat pieces off his plate? He remembers Glenn giving up his own food to her right away to ensure he would get to eat anything before she was done with her own plate.

It seems Felix remembers the same.

“Are you sure it’s not you who is going to steal their food?”

“Felix! I wouldn’t. I always ask before taking anything.”

“You never ask when you take from me,” he grumbles.

“Yes, that’s because you’re a grouch.”

Sylvain and Dimitri laugh, earning themselves a glare from Felix and a smug look from Ingrid. The years pass, but it seems as though some things change less than they seem. It’s a little heartwarming to see the four of them this close, just as they’d been before everything went down.

Dimitri turns to look at him.

“Rodrigue, you will be eating with us, won’t you?”

“If you would have me and my presence wouldn’t be a bother, then of course.”

The prince, Sylvain and Ingrid immediately confirm that he’s invited and expected to join them. Felix doesn’t say anything, but he gives Rodrigue a shrug that more or less says the same as his friends.

They make plans to meet up again later, as Rodrigue has been asked to help with the Knights of Seiros’ training today, and Ingrid and Sylvain seem to have plans of their own before dinner. Felix turns to the prince then, his usual frown in place on his face.

“Come spar with me, boar.”

Rodrigue tuts at the name, though Felix is hardly phased by that. It’s not the first time and likely won’t be the last. Dimitri is either used to it by now or he truly doesn’t care.

“Of course! I’d love to give this beauty a try,” he says, looking at the lance Rodrigue has gifted him.

It’s a reinforced silver lance, for which Rodrigue has paid quite the money in order to make sure it was sturdy enough to withstand the Blaiddyd strength. It hopefully will last the prince a month or two, if he uses it in real battles. A sad estimate for a weapon’s lifespan, but a reasonable one for a Blaiddyd.

The two of them start heading for the training grounds, barely paying any more attention to him or Sylvain and Ingrid.

“You’ll break it before the end of the day, boar.”

“Wh— no! I can mind my strength just fine, I’ll have you know!”

“Hah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Once they’re too far to hear their banter, Rodrigue hears Ingrid mutter “Hopeless” and Sylvain snorts, before they wave him goodbye. It seems he isn’t the only one who has caught on the situation at hand.

  
  


Dinner goes rather smoothly, especially with food as good as what the students have prepared. Rodrigue is quite amazed by their culinary skills. It’s tasty and cooked just the right way. If these kids don’t quite make it into the Kingdom’s army, they can certainly envision a career as cooks.

The atmosphere at their table is great, as well. It always is, with this group, but tonight it feels like another threshold of happiness. It makes Rodrigue long for the old days, when he was in their place and surrounded by friends. Many of them are gone now, and those who aren’t have distanced themselves with time.

Rodrigue isn’t a lonely man, far from it. He greatly values his soldiers’ company and maintains the bond he has with them often. It is simply… a different feeling, he supposes. His friendships with Lambert, Marlene, Jose and Arianne, his late wife, were things of the past, the easiness of it gone since long.

Perhaps this is why he hopes that Dimitri’s friends will remain close to him in the future. The boy has lost so much already and those are the people he is most comfortable with nowadays. Rodrigue remembers a time when Dimitri would barely smile, soon after the Tragedy. Seeing him laugh along with his friends is a comfort. Life never goes as expected, but Rodrigue might as well pray that this at least will remain.

Once they are done with their dishes, with surprisingly very little food theft from anyone, Mercedes and Ashe invite them to help themselves to the sweet buns they have baked. Not one to refuse an invitation, and perhaps because unlike his son, he doesn’t despise sweets, Rodrigue doesn’t hesitate to pick one or two. He’s not the only one, either, though Ingrid should probably not be counted. Even Felix ends up with a few of them on his plate, and he’s definitely glaring at them with more hatred than is necessary.

But even in spite of this, the evening goes on well. Rodrigue notices his son passing the sweet buns to his right, directly onto Dimitri’s own plate, which earns him a bright smile that he pretends not to see. Rodrigue wonders if their sparring session has yielded more than training results this time. Ever since the White Heron Cup, they do seem a little more at ease around each other, and Felix’s words for the prince are less often coated in anger.

Maybe they aren’t as hopeless as Ingrid and Sylvain believes them to be.

  
  


Rodrigue learns about the one change from his time at the Academy in the form of Felix screeching at his professor. He rounds up the corner and sees them, along with Dimitri and Dedue.

“What do you mean I have to dance with the boar?”

“Exactly what I mean,” the professor says, unphased. “The candidates to the White Heron Cup must dance with their respective house leader for the ball opening. The winner of the Cup and their house leader are the ones to open the dance.”

“Surely, there must be a way to…” Dimitri starts, hesitantly. It doesn’t sound like he minds either way, so he’s probably arguing for Felix's sake.

“I’m afraid not. Seteth threatened to ban me from the fishing pond, despite his sister begging him not to. I’m not willing to risk it.”

“Just how obsessed are you with fishing?” Felix asks, incredulously. He shakes his head. “Nevermind that. I’m not dancing at this stupid ball. I’ve done enough dancing for a lifetime.”

“I’ve got bad news for you then. I was hoping to take advantage of your dancer skills for the next mission.”

“Oh for the love of—“

“We’ll do it, professor,” Dimitri interrupts Felix, earning himself a nasty look. Despite that, he steps closer to Felix and puts a hand on his shoulder, which Felix doesn’t bother shrugging off. “The fastest way to get it over with is to just do it.”

“Hmpf. You better watch your steps, then.”

If the professor seems surprised by Felix’s acceptance of his fate so quickly after he’d complained, he’s not showing any sign of it.

“I promise you, your feet are safe with me.”

Dimitri gives him a bright smile, which makes Felix roll his eyes. He finally shrugs off Dimitri and leaves without another word. When Dimitri turns to resume conversation with the professor, he’s still smiling.

  
  


The week leading up to the ball passes without any incident. Rodrigue finds some time to spend with his son, Dimitri or their friends and he’s content to assist wherever he can. His relationship with Felix is still strained but it’s… doing a little better, at least. Felix isn’t as closed-off to conversation as he was until then, and that’s a major step in the right direction if Rodrigue dares say so.

When the night of the ball approaches, Rodrigue knows the evening has very little chance to go wrong. All of the Blue Lions are in good spirits and he’s already been kindly coerced into several dances by some of them. The attention is nice.

When it’s time for Dimitri and Felix to open the dance, it takes surprisingly little time to get them going. They are both wearing the formal uniform that Garreg Mach provides its students with, though Dimitri’s is a little more intricate and his shoulder is covered by the blue cape that indicates his status as house leader. Felix’s hair is tied up in a simple high tail that Rodrigue is pretty sure is held up in a ribbon the same color as Dimitri’s cape.

They walk up to the center of the room and get in position, waiting for the musicians to begin. Felix is looking anywhere but directly at Dimitri and even the prince seems not quite sure where to put his gaze. The entire ballroom is watching them.

The first notes of the song start playing. Dimitri takes the first step backward, taking Felix with him. They fall into step easily and eventually, they seem to relax into their waltz. The other house leaders join them soon enough with their own classmate.

It’s easy to fall into contemplation while watching them. There are whispers around him commenting on each pair waltzing in front of them, many revolving on Dimitri and Felix.

They do make a striking couple. It is probably the years they’ve spent so close together that help make their dancing seem more natural. Now that Felix has stopped looking ready to bolt out of here and that Dimitri has caught his eyes, it is almost as though they can’t look away from each other. They do, of course, because Felix can’t hold a gaze for too long, but Rodrigue can see him look up again often enough that the impression is the same.

And with Dimitri’s gentle smile and fond eyes, and Felix’s shy looks and pink cheeks? They look a little like they belong together.

  
  


The next day, the Blue Lions are tasked with guarding an old chapel, or so is Rodrigue told. He himself has to return to Fraldarius, now that the moon is nearly passed. He sees them out, reassured to see that the old Captain Jeralt accompanies them in their mission. Felix even comes to bid him farewell, thanking him in a grumble for “the other night” which Rodrigue takes to mean the night of the White Heron Cup.

As he watches them leave, a merry group and their professor, he can only wish things will be alright.


End file.
